Treason of Prucaryn
by KolKolKol
Summary: AU. Prince Feliciano of Prucaryn is becoming worried about his brother's views of King Edelstein's ruling of the kingdom, and ideas of revolution are sparked. Eventual Italy/Germany; FULL SUMMARY INSIDE!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**: Feliciano, prince of Prucaryn, believes that everything King Roderich Edelstein does is for the good of his kingdom. Lovino, the eldest child who gave up the crown, looks upon Edelstein's decisions with disgust, believing that the man was shaken and disturbed by the death of his Queen, Elizabeta. Edelstein locks Feliciano in, not allowing him to go outside the castle walls. But when Feliciano ventures out one day, a German commoner makes him think that his brother's words were true. It also plants ideas of rebellion in his mind...

**Chapter One**

Prince Feliciano Vargas rested his head in his hand, staring out the wide window of his bedchamber. Rain was pouring down from the gray sky in buckets, splashing harshly down on the flooding grass. He could hardly even see the grass, were he to look out the window; his chamber was at one of the highest levels of the castle. All he could see was a wide expanse of grass, where his archery and painting classes were held, and if he squinted, the castle walls could barely be spotted.

"Prince Vargas," a voice came from his doorway. Immediately, like a reaction, Feliciano set a vague smile on his face as he turned. It was the expression Feliks had taught him, for when he met with commoners.

"Oh, Sir Kirkland," he said, dropping the forced expression in favor of a more relaxed, welcoming one. "It's only you."

"Yes, Your Highness. It's time for your embroidery lesson," Arthur Kirkland reminded him, holding up the basket of embroidery items.

Feliciano sighed; embroidery was boring to him, but his father demanded he know it. "Your mother would have wanted it," were his exact words. The Italian boy knew that his father dearly loved his mother, but he didn't see why his father couldn't let her go. Queen Elizabeta Héderváry had passed away shortly after Feliciano's birth, and that had been nineteen years ago.

"Yes Sir Kirkland," Feliciano said, accepting the needle, threads, and frame.

Arthur had been teaching him for years now, whether it be needlepoint now, or how to read when he was a child. He was a wonderful teacher, and Feliciano had always been intrigued by his British accent. But he had grown accustomed to all the accents; in the castle of Prucaryn, there were people from every country in Europe. Literally. Some were cooks, who Feliciano rarely saw, others cleaned the castle, and still others were his mentors in a myriad of different skills. The positive side of being immersed in all those different nationalities was that Feliciano had a native speaker to teach him the different languages.

"Prince Feliciano, you're using the continental stitch; you're supposed to use the half cross stitch," Arthur reminded him, jolting Feliciano out of his thoughts. The young prince looked down at his work and grinned humorlessly, rolling his eyes.

"So I am, Sir Kirkland. I'm sorry," he apologized, picking at the few stitched he had done wrong with perfectly rounded fingernails.

"It's fine, Your Highness," Arthur said patiently. "You don't have to be perfect from the beginning."

"But it isn't the beginning; you have been teaching this to me for half a year now," Feliciano commented, restarting the stitches.

"Well, you do have all your other classes," Arthur said fairly.

"I should be able to balance them," Feliciano said, "at least, according to my father."

A visible flinch passed over Arthur, and Feliciano could see a fleeting flash of annoyance at King Edelstein before the Englishman replaced it with his usual impassiveness. "Yes, well, sometimes a teenager should be given allowances."

Feliciano secretly agreed with this; he had quite a few classes, sometimes it did get quite overwhelming. There was needlepoint with Arthur; music classes with Antonio; and a great deal many other classes taught by a multitude of people whom Feliciano tried to remember the names of. On top of that, he had Feliks telling him what to wear and how to act 'royal' all the time. The only person Feliciano was truly closest to was his older brother, Lovino. But Lovino wasn't around much, as he had rejected the title of prince, passing it off to Feliciano. Feliciano didn't mind the responsibilities, but he did wish he could see his brother more often.

"Your Highness?" Arthur asked. "Perhaps we should cut this lesson short for today; you don't seem to be able to keep your head out of the clouds today."

"But my father-" Feliciano started, but Arthur held up his hand and shook his head.

"Don't worry about King Edelstein; I'll take care of it. He'll never know, and it's only this once," Arthur promised, beginning to put away the needles carefully, so as not to stab himself as Feliciano had when he was beginning the sessions.

Feliciano smiled a true smile that time. "Thank you, Sir Kirkland," he said gratefully. He usually had nearly endless patience for needlepoint - Arthur was patient with him, and was nice to talk to - but he couldn't help but let his thoughts wander today.

"Good day, Prince Vargas," Arthur said, bowing before he left the room. Feliciano nodded once, as was expected of him. After Arthur left, he sighed and went to his window seat, settling himself against the cold stone and looking out at the rain. Once again, though, his quiet time was interrupted by someone knocking at his door, the noise resounding through the room.

"Come in," Feliciano called, righting himself into a more 'respectable' position; he could almost hear Feliks chastising him if he were to be caught in such bad posture. Feliciano's expression split into a joyful beam that would have earned him a slap on the wrist should Feliks see him as he recognized his favorite person entering the room.

"Lovino!" he shouted happily as he ran to his brother and threw his arms around him.

"Feliciano, it's wonderful to see you, too," Lovino said, chuckling as he hugged his brother back. Releasing him, Feliciano was still smiling excitedly; Lovino was not only the one person he could tell everything to, but he was also the only person who didn't treat Feliciano as a royal. Sure, Lovino could have his temperamental moments, and he was sometimes quick to anger, but Feliciano was still happy to see him whenever he could.

"Welcome back, brother! What brings you back here?" Feliciano asked, cocking his head to the side.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot stay long," Lovino said ruefully. "I wish I could; I only stopped by to check in with you. How are you, what have you been doing?"

"I'm fine, I suppose. To tell the truth, I'm getting bored," Feliciano admitted. "I just finished a needlepoint session with Sir Kirkland."

Lovino grimaced. "Man, I'm glad it's you and not me, kid; I don't think I could make it through a needlepoint class alive. I'm guessing Father still hasn't let you leave the grounds yet?"

Feliciano shook his head. "No, he hasn't. I wish I could, though."

"Kid, you should just bust outta here sometime," Lovino suggested. "I can't believe you're nineteen years old and you've never been past the castle wall."

"Oh no, Lovi, I couldn't leave; unlike you, I cannot pass off my duties to anyone else," Feliciano said teasingly. "In any case, I ... I like it here."

"Father really can be so dense sometimes," Lovino muttered. "Thinking a man can rule without a queen. Pray tell, if his plan works and you never see a woman and never take a wife, who's going to be King after you? By that time, Father will be in the ground, so he won't have to worry about it, I guess."

For once, Feliciano didn't have anything to say. Their father had truly been altered by their mother's death; so much that he believed that his sons should never take wives. He told them it was to protect them from heartbreak. That reminded him...

"Lovi, how did you get in here? Didn't Father ban you from the grounds? Did he change his mind?" Feliciano asked, offering his brother a seat. He could see the relief in Lovino's eyes as his brother eyed his now-natural perfect posture, hands clasped in his lap, back straight.

"No, father doesn't know I'm here," Lovino admitted. "That Gilbert man snuck me in; you know how he'll agree to anything if it pertains to trouble, so it was easy to convince him to help."

Feliciano sighed, but couldn't bring himself to feel anger for their newest helper. Gilbert had been working in the castle for about a year or two, and had always gotten into trouble. The only reason that King Edelstein hadn't banished him was that Feliciano wouldn't allow it. He knew it was unfair, but he had played on his mother's maternal personality to tell Roderich that, 'Elizabeta would never make a teenage boy go out of work and go hungry'. And it was true, so Roderich grudgingly let Gilbert stay.

"Oh Sir Beilschmidt," Feliciano said fondly. "He really can't stay away from anything dangerous. So is he going to help you sneak out?"

"Yeah, he promised to," Lovino agreed. "So that's why I can't stay long. I just wanted to check up on my kid brother."

"Thanks Lovi," Feliciano said. "I'm doing fine, really. So is everyone else."

Lovino snorted in disgust, glaring out the window. "This is no way to run a kingdom," he muttered. "You haven't been outside, so you don't know. But people out there starve. People are murdered, and nobody cares enough to do anything about it. If they're not working for King Roderich Edelstein, they've got to fend for themselves, and if anything happens to them, too fucking bad."

"Lovino, please calm down," Feliciano asked. "I'm sure it's not all that bad; you're only speaking from what you've seen. I'm sure that there are poor places like that, but there are everywhere, even in Exctalii."

Exctalii was the other, rivaling kingdom, ruled by King Braginski. Feliciano's history teacher – and Finnish teacher – Sir Väinämöinen, had taught him about it when he was a child. Braginski had ruled in what used to be known as Asia for as long as Roderich had ruled Prucaryn. King Braginski was, if possible, an even more unfair ruler than Feliciano's father. He ruled over not only the former Asia, but Ukraine, Belarus, and the Baltics as well; all the Estonians, Latvians, and Lithuanians were under his reign. The Italian didn't know much else about it, other than Braginski had a violent streak a mile long, and a taste for blood. Thinking about him made Feliciano appreciate Roderich when nothing else could.

"No Feliciano, I can't calm down!" the older brother said, and Feliciano had to hush him lest someone find out he was there against their father's will. "People are dying in the filthy streets in Prucaryn, and it's everywhere! I can't do anything about it!"

"If this is true," Feliciano said, not believing it; he knew Roderich could be a tad unfair, but he could never picture him letting an entire kingdom starve and die off. "Why don't you do anything about it?"

"Me?" Lovino laughed grimly. "I'm related to the King. That's it. I have no power, no extensive contacts, and no force at all. But you do."

Feliciano was silent for a moment, wide-eyed. "Lovi…are you seriously suggesting that I lead a revolution?" he breathed, slightly horrified.

"Revolution? Maybe later. But now, what you need to do is find a bunch of other people who feel the same way I do," Lovino said, gaining enthusiasm as he went on. "You've gotta find 'em, rally 'em together, tell 'em that it doesn't have to be every man for himself. Arm 'em, educate 'em, and then, dear brother, comes the Revolution."

For once, Feliciano was completely speechless. There he was, prince of Prucaryn, and there was his brother, speaking of…of…

"Lovino…what you are speaking of is treason," Feliciano whispered. "I…I couldn't…I won't…"

Feliciano's brother put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Hey, hey, 's okay," he murmured. "I'm sorry, I should've known you wouldn't go for this idea. You're…"

Feliciano looked up at his brother. "I'm what?" he asked, a little angrily.

"You're just you," Lovino stated, rising from his seat. "Anyway, Feli, it was good seeing you again and I hope to visit again soon."

"You're leaving already?" Feliciano asked, jumping up. No matter if his brother did want him to commit treason, he was still his brother. And in any case, Feliciano doubted that Lovino really meant it; he could just get a little hotheaded at times, that was all. Caught up in his anger at their father for making him have to sneak in like a burglar to visit his own brother probably did it.

"Gilbert's at the door," Lovino said, gesturing. At his words, the albino slipped inside, grinning sheepishly.

"How'd you know I was there?" he demanded, cocking his head to the side, making silvery hair drape down over ruby-red eyes.

"You're not exactly subtle," Lovino claimed only slightly scathingly, "no matter how awesome you claim to be."

"And that, young one, is very, very awesome," Gilbert stated. "Now c'mon, King Edelstein won't like it if he catches either of us, and I gotta sneak you outta here ASAP."

Lovino gave his younger brother a brief, one-armed hug. "Don't worry about what I said, really. It's not for you, I get it. See you later, Feli."

"Goodbye Lovi," Feliciano said, "be careful, okay?"

Lovino gave a smirk that almost rivaled Gilbert's as he followed the albino out the door. "Always am."

Once Feliciano was alone in his room again, he heard the emptiness swirl around him like a choking fog. He crossed to the window again, and saw that the rain had stopped, the sun breaking through the clouds. Now that there was no storm in the way, the young Italian could see the castle wall in the distance.

No matter what he said to anyone else, Feliciano felt it very unfair that he had been kept inside the castle walls for his nineteen years of life. He'd always had a yen for adventure, and would pester the castle workers to tell him what it was like. When he was younger, he would help them with chores while listening to their stories; that is, until his father caught him.

"You are a prince now, Feliciano," Roderich had said after pulling him away from Sir Karpusi after he had been caught assisting Heracles grooming the wild cats that somehow managed to get inside the castle walls.

"But father, I—" Feliciano started.

"No Feliciano. You are a prince, and princes don't help the workers. That's their job. Your job is to go to your acting lesson with Sir Adnan," Roderich had ordered him.

From then on, Feliciano had tried to obey his father's wishes, but the fact was that he just did not want to be confined like he was. The eager Italian looked out at the castle wall and remembered what Lovino had said.

'You're nineteen years old and never been outside the castle wall.'

He had never been one to put off experiences, and he decided that someday soon, maybe even that week, he was going to escape. Of course, he would return, but not before he saw some of this World that he had heard so much about.

**A/N: Yes yes, I know that I need to be working on my other fics, but this idea came to me today and I just_ could not _put it away! So I wrote this. Please tell me what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So sorry for the lateness of this chapter; my life's rather hectic right now, and I'm having a few personal problems. But anyhow, I'll try to get these chapters out as soon as possible, but do excuse long intervals, if you please. **

**Enjoy!**

**Oh, and by the way, since sometimes I have the mentality of a twelve-year-old (blame it on Death Note; I've started taking after L) I inserted a little Sparta reference. Whoever finds it gets a cookie!  
**

"Oi, Feliciano! Time for ... archery!"

Simply by the wording, Feliciano could tell that it was Gilbert Beilschmidt pounding on his door. He all but ran to the door, throwing it open and revealing the silver-haired man leaning casually against his doorway.

"With that tone of voice, could you be a tad less subtle?" he hissed quietly. "Do you _want_ us to be caught?"

Gilbert shook his head like a petulant child. "No Feliciano," he said, "but I thought you'd just like to know that we're not actually doing archery today-"

Feliciano's glare silenced him. "I do believe that I remember the plan we formed _yesterday_, Sir Beilschmidt. Now follow."

Gilbert chuckled, leisurely pushing himself off the wall and following the young prince down the winding staircases, finding it difficult to keep up with his ever-quickening pace. Unlike Feliciano, Gilbert had to duck to avoid the hanging chandeliers; he was much taller than the Italian.

"Why so eager?" the albino asked, nearly tripping down a particularly slippery stair.

"Sir Beilschmidt, I would like to finish my archery practice as soon as possible today," Feliciano said, hand hovering just above the wooden railing as he descended the stairs. "I do hope you'll understand."

Gilbert smirked as they finally reached the bottom of the stairway and caught up to the young prince as they entered the antechamber, where the archery equipment was resting. Feliciano resisted the inclination to help Gilbert with it; the King wouldn't approve, and Gilbert was much too proud to accept help, in any case. Really, Feliciano thought that the man was a tad self-important and needed to be, as Lovino once put it, taken down a notch.

Instead of retreating to their usual archery field, a nicely sized space of grass in front of the castle, Gilbert led Feliciano over to a quieter spot to the side. While their usual spot was shaded nicely by tall, leafy oak trees, this one was overshadowed by the castle, giving it an eerie quality. Feliciano repressed a shiver as a rare breeze blew through.

"Good afternoon, Your Highness," a voice called. Feliciano turned to see Francis crossing the field to them. The Frenchman was often seen strolling the grounds when he wasn't in the kitchen, where he worked as one of the chefs.

"Ah, good afternoon Sir Bonnefoy," Feliciano said, nodding kindly. "What brings you out here?"

"I was actually looking for Arthur," Francis admitted, to be met by Feliciano's small smile. Francis's other hobby was courting the Englishman; Feliciano sometimes couldn't tell whether it was for Francis's own amusement, or out of actual feelings. Whatever the reason, Arthur didn't seem to appreciate Francis's many proposals.

"Hey Francis," Gilbert said. Once again, Feliciano stopped himself from offering help as he observed Gilbert's nearly dropping a heavy target on his foot. "We're just off to archery practice."

"That was why I came up to you, Gilbert. Why are you over here? It's so much brighter in the actual field, _oui_?"

"Yeah, but it's all mucky and wet from the rain," Gilbert lied smoothly. Feliciano had to admire that silver tongue of his. "Wouldn't want F—Prince Vargas to get all muddy."

"Ah yes, of course not," Francis said, smiling cordially. "Well then, carry on. Oh, Prince Vargas, you wouldn't have happened to see Arthur around here, would you?"

"No, Sir Bonnefoy," Feliciano said, "I only last saw him earlier today, but that was hours ago. Although, why don't you check one of the lower-level chambers? He does enjoy studying that magic of his."

"That he does, Sir, that he does," Francis said with a chuckle. "Thank you. Good day Your Highness, Gilbert."

"That one's got the oddest tastes," Gilbert commented as Francis walked back toward the castle doors. The Prussian quickly walked to one of the shadiest spots and unceremoniously dropped the equipment, being careful as to not drop it on his feet. Gilbert stooped to rummage through it, extracting a small sack, which he tossed to Feliciano.

"All right, remember this, kid," Gilbert reminded him. "You've got until it starts getting dark, which gives you a few hours. You can't let anybody recognize you, obviously, and try not to attract attention."

"Yes, I remember, Gilbert," Feliciano said, shifting the burlap sack from hand to hand. "And I assume you remember what to do should anyone query?"

" 'Course; I tell them that you've gone to fetch something from your chamber, and you'll be back shortly. Meanwhile, I'm just sitting around here."

"Good, perfect," Feliciano murmured, glancing up at the tall stone wall beside him. According to Gilbert, this was the easiest place to get in and out, besides the actual gate, obviously.

"Okay kid, here, I'll give you a leg-up," Gilbert said, interlacing his fingers. "Don't worry, this is how I get Lovino out, and he's never hurt himself," he said when Feliciano hesitated.

Slipping the strap of the sack over firmly his shoulder, Feliciano allowed Gilbert to hoist him up the wall. The Italian awkwardly threw his arms over the top, pulling himself up onto the rough stone. His window gave a wider view than this, of course, but now he could see without the obstruction of glass. Everything looked so much brighter, especially now that he could go explore it instead of just gazing at it. However, all he got when he turned away from the castle was a face full of tree leaves.

"Okay Feliciano, you see that tree on the other side?" Gilbert asked, looking up at the prince. Feliciano removed a few leaves from his face - and one from his mouth - and called back down to Gilbert.

"Yes, I see it," he said, "it's rather hard not to."

"That's the one," Gilbert chuckled. "Some awesome person tied a rope to the branch that should be poking you in the back, and you'll have to scale down it. Just hold on to it and scrape your feet against the tree so you don't fall too fast."

"Are you sure it's safe?" Feliciano asked, looking down. He now realized that the castle was on a hill, and the drop down was a bit longer than the lift up.

"Kid, your brother does this every time he comes to see you," Gilbert reminded him. "It's fine, as long as you just hold on to the rope."

Feliciano did as he was told, and gripped the rope tightly between his hands. Taking a breath, he slid off the wall until he was just hanging by the rope. He began loosening his hold just enough to allow himself to slide down, remembering Gilbert's advice and dragging his feet on the tree. He looked down and thought he was close enough to the ground to just let go entirely. Unfortunately, it was a bit farther than he was expecting, and the force reverberated through his legs, forcing him to sit down for a second.

"You all right, kid?" Gilbert's voice echoed over the wall.

"I'm down," Feliciano called back, standing up and brushing the dirt off himself.

"Remember to change your clothes so nobody recognizes you, and be back before it gets dark!" Gilbert said.

"I will. Thank you, Sir Beilschmidt," Feliciano said.

"Anytime, kid. It was about time you got outta here."

Feliciano chuckled softly as he hurriedly changed out of his normal clothes - which were far too fancy and overdone for his tastes, but Feliks had insisted. The new clothes Gilbert had given to him were old, and unfamiliar to the Italian. He managed to tuck his breeches into his scuffed black boots, which ran halfway up his calves. The thin long-sleeved shirt had some form of elastic at the wrists, making it bunch there for some odd reason Feliciano could not fathom. And over the shirt was a brown vest, which was apparently supposed to be fastened with criss-cross ties. It took Feliciano longer than he wished to fix his clothes, and he stowed his old ones - carefully folded, of course; he didn't want poor Feliks to have an embolism - into the sack, which he placed carefully beside the tree.

Feliciano scampered off quickly, determined to make the most of his time outside the castle. However, he soon found that it took quite a while to get anywhere from the castle. He made sure to keep the dirt trail within his sight, but kept to the forest lest anyone spot him. He could only imagine what King Edelstein would say if he caught him. And if he did, Feliciano would have to tell him about Gilbert's part in it, too. He couldn't do that to the man; he didn't deserve it, even if he was a little too eager for mischief. The albino was Feliciano's only true friend in the kingdom, the only one who didn't refer to him as 'prince' or 'highness'. Feliciano respected that; Gilbert saw that he didn't really want all that special, careful treatment.

After following the sloping trail for over ten minutes, Feliciano found himself entering a village. Wide-eyed, he took in the sights as well as the fact that his brother had been completely right. The village was in such a state of disrepair, Feliciano wondered how the crumbling buildings still stood. Around him, peasants worked furiously. The men were herding cattle or saddling bone-thin horses, who were munching on whatever grass they could coax out of the earth. Some of the women had brought spools and weaving equipment to the front of their homes, peddling wares to whoever walked by. Even the children worked, though none had many marketable skills. All of the people looked hungry and desolate. Feliciano couldn't believe his father could have let this happen. He knew the man had never been quite right after Elizabeta's death, but this was madness.

Feliciano slowly walked down the streets, watching every detail with great interest as if he could see it all at once. He saw the houses in their various states of disrepair and the dilapidated structure that may have been a church in a past life, large cracked front doors leaning haphazardly against the stone walls. In fact, he was so busy staring at a group of small children leaping into the air to attempt to grab shriveled apples off a lightning-split tree that he nearly ran over another child.

"S-sorry, mister," the boy stammered, looking up at Feliciano with wide green eyes. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's all right," Feliciano promised, stooping down to be at eye level with the boy. "What's your name?" he asked gently.

"L-Lucas, sir; Poland," Lucas said. He seemed surprised that Feliciano was talking to him, and stuffed his dirty hands into his pockets. Feliciano smiled; he had always had a soft spot for children. Though he did wonder why he said 'Poland' after his name.

"Do you have a family, Lucas?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. Momma's a spinner, she makes thread and stuff. Dad raises pigs 'n things, 'n sells 'em to people. An' I've got an older sister, Maria. Momma's trainin' her with the spinning wheel, but she ain't very good yet. Momma sells the stuff to whoever she can, but 's not very often. Dad sells more pigs than Momma does thread, but 's still not much. Especially for all four of us."

Feliciano reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver coin, keeping it hidden in his palm. He smiled as he reached behind Lucas's ear and pretended to pull it out. The boy's eyes grew wider as Feliciano offered it to him. "Lucas, I'd like you to take this to your family," he said, pressing it into Lucas's hand.

"Thanks, mister! Thanks a whole lot!" Lucas said, smiling widely and turning to pelt off down the street. Feliciano stood, smiling to himself as he kept walking. It was the small things, he realized, that must make it worth it to live in this awful place.

"You're new around here, aren't you?" someone asked. Feliciano looked around for a second before spotting a man leaning against the wall. His blond hair was slicked back over his head, blue eyes watching Feliciano intently. Feliciano could see they were probably the same age, though this man was much taller, and more fit than he was.

"Um, yes, I am," Feliciano said uncertainly. He probably shouldn't tell the man that he was the prince of Prucaryn, but then again, why would it matter? It wasn't like anyone would turn him in for it; these people seemed like they would despise King Edelstein with every fiber of their beings. Anything that the King wouldn't like, they would side with, which probably included Feliciano's sneaking out.

"Who are you?" the man asked.

"My name is Feliciano. You?"

The man - most likely German, from the look of him - looked slightly suspicious of Feliciano's proper speech instead of slang, but introduced himself all the same. "I'm Ludwig; Germany" he said grimly. "Where're you from?"

Feliciano tilted his head to the side. "Prucaryn, of course. Aren't we all?"

Ludwig shook his head. "No, no. Christ, you really are new here, aren't you? I'm from the former Germany, allegedly. You?"

"Ah, I see. I am from the former Northern Italy," Feliciano said hesitantly. His response seemed to satisfy Ludwig, for the German nodded and stuck out his hand. Feliciano shook it awkwardly; Ludwig's grip was strong. Surprisingly to the Italian, he actually liked Ludwig's gruffness; he had no idea who Feliciano was, and didn't treat him as fragile. He was just another person in the crowd. Feliciano liked that.

"Welcome to this hellhole, but I doubt it's nice to be here."

**A/N: Well, that's chapter two! Remember, find the Sparta reference and you get a cookie! X3**

**...yes, well, no one has ever accused me of having a poor sense of humor.**

**Reviews and flames are welcome!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I know that technically, Ukraine (Katyusha) is Russia's older sister, but as this is an AU fic, I made her younger than him. So both of Russia's sisters are younger than him in this, although Belarus is older than Ukraine. There, that'll clear up a lot of confusion, hopefully.**

_~Exctalii~_**  
**

Toris Lorinaitis walked down the dimly-lit hall, listening to the click of his shoes reverberating off the stone. He shifted the long rifle he had rested over his shoulder, flinching as he felt cold metal pressing into the crook of his neck. Blue eyes flicked around the end of the hall searchingly as he leaned against the large wooden door. Toris finally saw the sixteen-year-old girl hurrying down the hall.

"Ah, good morning Your Highness," Toris said, dipping his head to her once she reached him.

"Good morning Sir Lorinaitis," Katyusha panted. "I apologize for being late; Madam Arlovskaya kept me for a moment, but I tried my best to be here on time."

"There is no trouble, Miss Katyusha," Toris said, waving a hand dismissively. "You are not late; I am merely early."

The Ukrainian teenager smiled. "Of course," she said. "So, shall we?" She gestured to the door. Toris sighed, biting his lip.

"Yes, I suppose we shall."

Toris opened the door for her, ducking out into the crisp wind behind her. Katyusha blinked, turning her head up to glance at the clouds, her tan headband falling back a bit. Her platinum hair blew around her face, and she shook her head when it started bothering her.

"Miss Katyusha?" Toris said lightly. She smiled and stopped looking around, following him to a less-grassy area of the grounds. It was worn out from their standing on the spot for so long. A small distance away, a ragged target stood. Toris handed the rifle to the Ukrainian as her feet found their usual indents in the dirt. She took it gently, blue eyes eying it with disgust.

_This isn't right,_ Toris thought as the girl cocked the rifle and aimed it at the target. He didn't flinch as the shot rang out through the air and the muffled thock of a bullet slammed into the colored felt._ I shouldn't be teaching a teenager how to use a gun. Especially not for these purposes. Especially not to kill._

King Ivan Braginski had insisted that, as part of his younger sister's combat training, Toris teach her to fire a rifle. Personally, Toris hated guns. He hated that something so small as a bullet could kill someone, hated how cavalier the Russian king was about them, and he positively hated the fact that it had to be him to teach a sixteen-year-old how to kill people. Of course, Katyusha had another combat instructor, a timeless man called Yao of the former China, but he had no idea how to use a rifle, so it had to be Toris.

"Sir Lorinaitis?" Katyusha asked, bringing Toris back to the present. He mentally reminded himself that having his head in the clouds was dangerous; the King had a disturbing habit of appearing suddenly when one wasn't aware of it.

"Yes, Your Highness?" Toris questioned, retying his light brown hair back behind his head; the wind had started bringing locks of it out, whipping out behind him.

"Was that all right?" she asked, pointing the rifle at the target.

"Da, sister, that was perfect."

Toris whirled around at the sound of the Russian's voice behind him. King Braginski was standing a few feet away, watching his youngest sister with a vague smile on his face. Katyusha smiled sadly; she loved her older brother, but he was past madness by now.

"G-good morning, Your Highness," the Lithuanian said quickly, bowing deeply. He hoped that the man wouldn't notice that he was shaking almost as much as Raivis. The Russian was prone to fits of violence, many times unpredictable, oftentimes involving the metal pipe that he took with him. While flipping through dusty old books, Toris had learned about kingdoms centuries ago, long since fallen. While the stereotypical king at the time carried a bejeweled golden scepter, Ivan Braginski carried what Toris believed used to be a sink faucet, adorned with crimson bloodstains.

"Ah, good morning, Toris," Ivan said. Toris wasn't fooled by his seemingly childish manner; he was moderately certain that the Russian had some sort of mental deficiency, and he could switch between naivete and brutality in a heartbeat without even realizing it. "How is Katyusha coming along?"

"Very well, Sir, very well," Toris assured him. Ivan nodded and turned his attention back to Katyusha as she aimed the rifle again, being extra precise to please her brother. Toris was reminded again of why he was still working in the Castle: Ivan liked him. Of course, it was mainly because Natalia Arlovskaya, the self-appointed queen, violently disliked Toris, and Ivan had decided to favor him out of spite. Well, Toris decided, it was better that Ivan liked him to irritate Natalia, rather than because he truly had an interest in him. Like Yao. Sometimes, Ivan would materialize by the Chinese man's side, and Toris wouldn't be able to find him for hours. When he finally did find his friend, Toris took it upon himself to help him bandage the wounds. Toris himself had sustained numerous injuries by the Russian, older ones forming thin lines slashing across his skin, reminders of past and future pains.

"Pardon me, Sir Braginski, Miss Katyusha," Toris said politely after a few more shots. "I do believe we should retreat back to the castle to escape the stormy weather."

"Da, thank you Sir Lorinaitis," Ivan said. "Come, Sister."

Toris took the rifle from Katyusha, who relinquished it quite willingly, nearly forcing it into his hands. When he looked up, Ivan had disappeared again; another one of his strange abilities. He followed Katyusha inside, parting to duck into a little side room where he remounted the gun in its place. Around the small room sat sacks of gunpowder and boxes of bullets, along with leather-sheathed daggers and gleaming silver shields resting against the wall, all of which Toris and Yao had been teaching Katyusha to use correctly. Yao had insisted on additionally teaching her to use a wok and a katana; something about knowing thyself as well as thy enemy, he'd said.

Toris left the room as soon as he could, eager to be out of that dank, windowless deathtrap. He just knew that one day, when he was fetching something, he would trip and impale himself on a sword or something. Hurrying down the hall, he stopped and his eyes widened as he saw Queen Arlovskaya striding toward him. Flicking his gaze down at his feet, he walked so he was nearly scraping against the wall, hoping to pass her without incident. The Lithuanian could feel her icy stare boring into him as he walked by.

"Sir Lorinaitis!" she called. Toris flinched and stopped. So close...

"Yes, Your Highness?" he asked, turning to her and folding his hands behind his back. His face paled when he saw that the woman was holding a long, glinting knife in her hands; it seemed to be as omnipresent to her as Ivan's pipe was to him.

In the past, Toris had harbored a slight attraction for the Belarusian woman. However, she had made it immediately clear that she much preferred her older brother. Toris had also noticed that, ironically, while Ivan seemed to be both irritated and terrified by her, that they would make a good couple, in that they both enjoyed violence and torture. Toris unconsciously rubbed his hand where Natalia had broken his fingers a while back.

"Where is Miss Mei? Have you seen her?" she demanded. Her voice never failed to frighten Toris; its false calm and coldness promised extreme physical anguish in the very near future.

"Y-yes, ma'am," Toris stammered. "Miss Mei was sweeping the dining hall last I saw her. Would you like me to fetch her, or bring her a message?"

"Find her, send her to me," Natalia ordered.

Toris bowed low, nodding quickly. "Yes, ma'am, right away," he said, turning hurriedly and nearly sprinting down the hallway, skidding around a corner and not stopping until he had reached the dining hall.

"Toris? Are you all right?" Mei asked worriedly. Toris smiled at the Taiwanese girl and nodded, his wavy hair bobbing.

"I'm fine, Mei," he assured her. Mei's face brightened instantly; she smiled and adjusted the pink flower eternally clipped in her long brown hair. "Queen Arlovskaya is looking for you; she told me to find you and send you to her."

"All right, Toris," Mei said agreeably. "Do you know where she is?"

"No, unfortunately not. But I think she was headed toward wherever King Braginski is, which is most likely wherever Eduard is."

"Oh, I just saw Eduard at the observatory!" Mei exclaimed. "Thanks Toris; I'll check there first."

Toris nodded and smiled as Mei patted him on the back, displaying her strength and spunk, even in these situations. He admired her for her ability to remain optimistic, even when she knew very well that if she wasn't prompt, it was grounds for Natalia to try out her new set of carving knives.

Toris and Mei had been in the same boat for a very long time. Back when the nations' independence had been cut off, and empires and kingdoms had started forming, people ran for where they thought would be safest, trying to escape the war and bloodshed. Sometimes, random hordes of people were trapped by the kingdoms' hierarchies. If they were weak or had no profitable skills, they were shot where they stood. The remaining people were taken back to the kingdoms and put to work. Families were torn, lovers separated, and children left not knowing where their friends were, or even if they were alive or not.

Toris had been a farmer along the border of Lithuania, raising pigs and cattle for slaughter. Every time he had an excess of meat - which was often; he didn't have any family nearby, so it was only him - he would salt it, dry it, and sell it at a local market along the Lithuanian-Polish border. At that market was where he had met Feliks. Feliks had lived just along the border in Poland, and eventually the two decided to combine their businesses. Toris still found it funny how a simple business convenience had turned into a romance situation; the fashion-obsessed blond was one of the last people he would have considered having a relationship with. When the kingdom later known as Prucaryn had started storming Europe, Feliks had been at the market, while Toris had been tending to the animals. Toris had been alone at the ranch for days, wondering where Feliks had gotten off to when Exctalii had sent a raid party to Europe as well, where he was introduced into the second main superpower of the world.

Mei, however, was a different story. She and her Japanese lover, Kiku, had lived in Exctalii for years after the kingdom had been established. While Kiku had been small, he was strong and experienced. He had worked outside the castle with Mei, training the Exctalii army in combat courses. Mei worked at home, mending and sewing clothes for the local villagers in their town, and doing odd jobs, basically scraping together whatever income she could. Neither she nor Kiku could make enough money to be able to get by in the twisted government of Exctalii, so Kiku had formulated a plan to escape from Exctalii, to see if faring would be better in Prucaryn. Mei had eagerly volunteered to go with him, but Kiku had insisted that she stay, saying that if there was one thing he couldn't risk by going, it was her. Mei forced him to swear that he'd be back.

Neither Mei nor Toris had heard from their partners since the borders between Prucaryn and Exctalii went up, so many years ago. After Toris had been rounded up by Exctaliian forces, he had worked as a private combat instructor in the Castle. A few months after he arrived, Mei was recruited, but only as a sanitary engineer along with Eduard. From what Toris had heard, Ivan's recruiters were rooting through a local village, ran into Mei and liked her attitude. Toris couldn't blame them; Mei was quite strong-willed.

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, Toris picked up Mei's broom, which she had propped up against the wall, and stored it back in the closet just off the dining hall.

"Toris?" He turned around at the familiar voice of his Estonian friend.

"Hello Eduard," Toris said. "How are you? Hopefully you didn't have a run-in with Ivan and Natalia, I trust?"

"No; luckily I evaded Ivan on his way up to the tower, and Natalia soon after," Eduard said. "Where is Raivis?"

"Katyusha has her Literature session with him now; they are both most likely in her chamber or the Library."

Toris and Eduard walked quickly down the side halls - a trick that all of the castle workers had picked up within days was to avoid main hallways as much as possible. If you were caught by Ivan or Natalia at a bad time, the consequences were most severe. Most of the servants around here had either used or built tunnels and channels around the castle, secret ways to get around without running into the King or Queen.

In Katyusha's chamber, the two friends found Raivis and the Princess, happily discussing Isaac Babel, multiple novels stacked at the table around them. Toris and Eduard pulled up chairs and joined the conversation. In the background, a light rain tapped on the windows, and clouds obscured the view of charred villages and barren fields, turning it into a calm gray mist. Moments like those were the few peaceful times that anyone ever had in Extcalii.

**A/N: So, so sorry that this has been so incredibly late. I took a cross-country trip, and unexpectedly had no internet access. That was pretty bad. So I've got this, and I've already started chapter four. However, September 22d is Mabon this year, and I'll be pretty busy around then. (Mabon is one of the Wiccan Sabbats, FYI. Yes, I'm a Wiccan.) **

**So anyhow, here you are! I'll get the next chapter up ASAP! **

**Blessed be, friends!**


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